Not Your Typical Love Story
by HanR
Summary: AU Hitomi and Hayate. Okay so most of my romance stories are guy meets girl and the fall in love. BORING! You want to read something a little more interesting? How about girl falls in love with guy but well the guy is lets just put it as...confusedgay. Th
1. Damn Mary Poppins

Hello its Hannah again! Miss me? Yeah I know I've been a slack arse when it comes to writing, but hey what can you do? This is just some cute little story I started typing away at a while ago. Oh WARNING if you think scarsm is the lowest form of humor and can't stand it, do not read for this story is ooosing with it! Anyway have fun. And please review I'd love to know whether its worth continuing or not. :)

Prologue

They looked into each other's eyes, and at once knew the gods had made them for each other. True love, in all its splendor as they spent the rest of their days loving each other.

Yeah, well, it might happen in the movies, but unfortunately for us people who are stuck with the 'real world', true love is a creation of Hollywood and fairytales. Hollywood for one is full of a pack of liars and as for Fairytales, well, have you ever met your fairy godmother? I rest my case.  
As I said, for us stuck in the real world finding the 'one' is a wild guess, as you desperately hope that your future husband doesn't grow a beer belly, and he hopes you don't turn into the typical nagging wife while you both stumble haphazardly through the life you now share. Well, actually come to think of it, I'd better start this story from the start, or the first place that comes to my mind. But let me warn you; this is not your typical 'romantic love story.' Instead, it is a matter of events and circumstances that make up my life, you will not find your cliché lines, or your struggles against good and evil or any fairy godmothers, but what can I say? This is my life, and well, this is my story.

Chapter 1: Damn Mary Poppins

I hate dragging suitcases, almost as much as I hate packing. Oh and boy, do I hate packing! No, re-packing, now that's the killer, as you try to shove junky souvenirs, and unfolded dirty clothes in to a suitcase that seems to have visibly shrunk, while you vainly wish you had Mary Poppins' bag which can hold a bloody lamp! However, today that is not the case, today my suitcase has gained weight. So I curse every person I know, including Mary Poppins as I haul and heave it up a grand total of 3 steps. Of course, knowing my luck this building is too pov to have an elevator, so it's up a billion stairs for me; let's just hope it's not one of those never ending things. I have sweat on my forehead which is really gross, and my arm is about to drop clean off. Okay, you know what? Bugger all. I'm going to live here, that's right, here. On this flight of steps, and maybe if I do that, the people who run the dorm will complain, and then I'll say "I'd be happy to move to my room, but you'll have to move my stuff for me." Yes. That's what I'll do. So as I'm concocting this little plan I don't even notice someone come up behind me.  
"Can I help you?"  
"What..?" I look up to see a guy about my age looming over me. And what a guy! Yummy! But I can't drool too long or he might catch on. "Oh yes please, this bag weighs a tonne, and that's not an exaggeration."  
"Well, I'm not sure if I can drag a tonne up these stairs, but I'll try and get you up to the next landing," he smiles sweetly. And with that he picks up the suit case without any struggle and we're off. I follow meekly behind, feeling slightly guilty as he does all the work, but hey, as I mentioned, I _am_ allergic to hard labor.  
"So what number are you in?" he asks, although I am so off in my own thoughts like usual it takes me a while to register the question.  
"24." As I hold the key with the incredibly too large key ring.  
"Oh. That's irony."  
"Why?" I say as we come to my new home, its numbers shining gold. As I open the door and he walks in, dumping my stuff on the floor.  
"Because you see, this is my dorm."

Things I have learnt since living on campus (not necessary in order of importance): 1. Always watch your toast in the toaster as it's likely to go up in flames. 2. After being introduced to a person repeat their name 2 or 3 times during the conversation as that way you are more likely to remember it. 3. Don't take a random guess at their name as people tend to get offended, who knows why. Seriously, what's wrong with being called Bob anyway? 4. My room mate is very hot. 5. All the girls are insanely jealous, but I have a feeling they're keeping something from me. Note: explore that later. 5. Don't eat the porridge.

By the way, my very hot room mate also comes with a name, bonus! Hayate. It's a bit weird, I know... but then my name's not exactly what you'd call the 'norm.' And by the way, no, it's not Bob. After my jaw dropped with the news that I'd be spending the next 2 years with a very hot someone in the next room, I then asked the usual question, and Hayate showed me round the 3 rooms of our dorm. Which are the minuscule kitchen/lounge, his bedroom and my bedroom. That is now my home. But not to worry, I will soon attack the walls with my incredibly oh-so-wonderful posters and stuff so it will have just that touch of _me_. However I do notice that Hayate has not bad taste and the walls are already decorated with paintings, but luckily there's still space for _my_ touch.

He stands at the kitchen bench making coffee while I sit on our one couch, and since he has his back to me, I think it's the right time to ask the question that has been nagging me since we got here. It's funny how it's always easier to talk to someone's back.  
"Hayate, I don't mean to be rude, but... isn't it a bit strange how the college has allowed a guy and girl to share a dorm?" I let the question hang in the air between us, and as the silence gets to my nerves I add "Well at my old college it was like a rule that girls should share dorms with girls and guys should share dorms with guys." I gulp, _please don't be offended,_ I pray silently.  
"Yeah, I see what you mean. If you're uncomfortable in having a male room mate?" his face is suddenly full of concern.  
"No! Not at all." He's turned the question back in my face, and I suddenly don't know why I asked it in the first place.  
"Good. Because this is the only dorm that had a place free, and I was afraid you might have gotten trodden on if you decided to live on the stairs."  
"Oh no, did I say that out loud?" Great, now he thinks I'm a loony. But he merely shrugs it off.  
"Oh, tell me about yourself Hitomi?" He says sitting down and staring into my eyes.  
I hate those sort of questions. I sigh and smile sweetly back.  
"Where do I start?"  
"Okay, would you find it much easier if I asked you questions and you can ask me questions back?"  
I nod, "Yes please."

Well, although it might not have been as informational as... say... a 3000 word essay on yourself, I did find out quite a lot about my new room mate.  
He is 21, just a year older then me. He is studying Visual Communications, specializing in photography. Oh, I hope he'll let me take photos of him, that'd be great to send home to my friends to make them envious. He hates anything with garlic in it, well that is always a bonus for certain events... listen to me, I sound like I'm a 16 year old school girl with a crush! Or maybe I am! His pet fear is public toilets, as they creep him out, and his secret fantasy is to be in a Broadway musical, oh, and he is a scruncher not a folder when it comes to toilet paper. Okay, we ran out of questions.

So, after wiping back tears of laughter, our 20 questions were up, we were feeling much more at ease around each other. This is definitely the kind of atmosphere you want when you'll be spending the next 2 years with this person.  
"Hungry?" he asks.  
I shake my head. "20 questions are up."  
He throws me my coat. "So for the next 2 years we're not allowed to ask each other any questions. Gee, asking you your bra size seems kind of like a waste of a question now."  
I laugh. "Yeah, so does the toilet paper one."  
And with toilet paper and bras running through our mind we head out the door, and I'm certain I've never been so happy.


	2. Pasta and Fangs

Chapter 2:

The day had turned into dusk as we stepped out of the dorm's hall and walked casually down the footpath. The college was like a deserted ghost town. I shivered and pulled my coat tighter around me in the cold breeze that made music through the leaves in the tree. It really was a beautiful campus. When I first arrived here I was amazed by the greenness of the lawn, and I had the compulsiveness to just lie down on it and roll around, but luckily I was able to contain this urge. Out on the lawn stretched huge oak trees that seemed as old as time, standing tall and brave around the college guarding it. Tradition and history seemed to whisper quietly from every corner of this place. You could feel it in the architecture, in the trees and in the people. It really wasn't that different from where I came from, what in geographical sense (damn I sound like my SOSE teacher), or weather wise, but... I don't know, it just has a different air to it. Oh, home is Germany, or Deutchland as we call it. Yeah... home of over 500 types of beer, brutwursts and huge pretzels.

Don't get me wrong, I love the country but as I walk through the College grounds of London University, I can't help but feel a wave of refreshment. It's hard to explain, I know that's not the right word, but to me it feels like another chance. Another chance to meet new people, another chance to be who I want to be, away from people who think they know me, who have expectations. A new life.  
"You know, it's funny," he comments breaking my train of thought.  
"What?"  
"You haven't asked where we're going. For all you know I could be leading you round in circles," he says gesturing with his hands.  
"Well I kind of figured you knew this place well enough not to get lost."  
He laughs, a warm rumbling laugh that is almost touchable.  
"You've got wit girl, I'll give you that." He stops suddenly and I have to retrace my steps just a little. "I'll also shout you a pizza if you're hungry."  
I look up to see a sign with a smiling typical fat Italian chef and as the wafts of freshly cooked pizza and tomato paste reach my nose, I suddenly realize how hungry I am.  
"Famished."

The bell tinkles as we open the door, and a rush of heat and carefree conversation hits me. He takes my hand, and I can feel a tingle running through my arm at just the touch of him. It is official, somehow I have managed to travel back in time and am 16 again. He leads me over to a table in the corner with a very stereotypical white and red checkered table cloth. Actually, stereotypical pretty much sums up this place, from the Italian music playing in the background, to the Italian chefs in the kitchen with those ridiculous looking hats.  
"This is one of my favourite places in the whole world," Hayate says looking round the restaurant with an expression of fondness I had not seen yet. And I didn't have the heart to tell him I thought it was the most ridiculously over the top restaurant I had ever set foot in.  
I pick up the menu and bite my tongue instead, thinking give me a bowl of rice any day, instead of odd pasta parcels filled with yesterdays left overs, or perhaps worse. I shudder and decide to order something safe.  
"Hayate!"  
I look up, half in shudder wondering what tuna lasagna would taste like. The voice came from a girl with the biggest smile I have ever seen; whatever she's on... I want some. And someone should advise her that too many 'happy pills' at once isn't good for you.  
"Leifang, what a pleasant surprise," he returns a smile, however it doesn't seem to be a smile at all compared to hers, more like a bare of teeth.  
A confused, look comes across her face.  
"Who's this?"  
Oh great now I'm 'this', that's just great. Well at least 'this' doesn't have the word Fang in it. I shall name her Fangs, to remember her name.  
"This is my new room mate Hitomi."  
"Well that's, an unusual name," she comments still positively beaming. _And your isn't_? I roll my eyes and hope she didn't see…note: bad habit must stop…one day.  
"Where's Jann Lee?" Hayate asks before I can bag out her name.  
"Oh, he's over there," she points to the opposite side of the room. And Jann Lee raises his hand, making no effort to get up, rather he seems relieved that he has 5 minutes break with out having Fangs beam at him. As Hayate and Fangs chat about things I for one have no interest in and two don't have a clue what they're on about. I make my first impression of what I think of Fangs, knowing that I will be introduced to about another 50 million other people this week, and I have to distinguish them some how.  
Apart from her fangs the next noticeable thing about her was her hair. I could have sworn I'd seen her on one of those shampoo commercials. You know the ones where they flip their glossy straight hair around while smiling seductively at the camera, making women envious of their hair, and the men enjoying the pleasure of a gawk without a slap of a handbag from their wife. Although of course she hadn't, as I would have definitely remembered her beaming fangs. It was not only her camera perfect hair that made me think she must have been a shampoo model, but to add to it she had flawless skin and a body that just screamed carrot sticks. Hadn't she ever heard of anything called a doughnut? I didn't even have to glance at her table to tell that she had ordered the 'garden salad'. But although her body was run way ready it surprisingly enough did not fall under the category of, 'if you've got it flaunt it.' Her clothes were clothes that my mother, or any mother for that fact, would have been proud of. I hated people like that, people so naturally beautiful that they could wear a 10 year old stained with sweat tracksuit (there goes my appetite) with high heels and still turn heads for looking absolutely breathtaking. Damn her. I hope she falls into a deep hole with Mary Poppins and heavy suitcases. Note: must stop being so negative…I roll my eyes at the thought…oops!  
"So what are you studying?" Fangs beamed, obviously having run out of social chit chat with Hayate.  
"Primary teaching," I replied halfheartedly.  
"Oh, that's so fantastic! That's what I'm doing! We're going to have so much fun," she clapped her hands and reminded me of someone out of playschool. Oh God.  
"Yeah, it's going to be a blast," my voice couldn't have been more unenthusiastic.  
"Don't you just love kids?"  
"Yeah, great little buggers."  
Suddenly, despite Fangs' neon bright beams the evening had taken a somewhat sour turn.

I pushed the horrid pasta parcels around on my plate, my thoughts of jamming the nauseating meal down Hayate were only acted out in my head. It was of course the chef's special meal for his 'favourite customer' and Hayate had insisted I try it, as it was 'magnificent.' It's true that I felt rude, as he was paying for it and all, but at the same time I made a mental note to always order for myself.  
"You're not too fond of tortellini, I'm gathering?"  
"Why would you think that?" I ask trying to look as innocent as possible.  
"Because you're playing soccer with it." At that comment the piece I had been maneuvering round my plate flew out of my control and landed on the floor.  
"I'll grab the bill," he simple said laughing as the people on the next table stared at the parcel with utter confusion.  
"Good idea."

"Promise me this," I say as we walk home.  
"Okay, but as long as it's not converting to folding toilet paper because that's just not right." Our laughter spills into the night.  
"Next time we go out to tea, I choose."  
"That's fair. But just out of curiosity what do you have in mind?"  
"Does the word sushi mean anything to you?" I ask.  
"It only conjures up imagines of... yum!"  
"Oh my gosh... are you serious! Everyone back home in Germany thought I was crazy for liking it, they were like, 'No girl you need fatting up, here have a beer and a brutwrust.'"  
"Well people in Japan... thought I was normal for liking it," he smiles cutely and it almost breaks my 16 year old heart.  
"So you come from Japan? My mother was Japanese hence the weird name," I say feeling myself beginning to open up to this guy I've known for less then a couple of hours.  
"No, I like it."  
"Really? Because all through highschool after being named Hit-on-me. I kind of began to loathe it," I laugh.  
"No it's pretty. Hitomi." He says it in such a way that it is now my favourite name ever. Even if I did have to stare at gross parcels for like an hour, I must admit this evening has turned out pretty well.


End file.
